


Beta Tested

by Telanu



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2013-04-30
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:45:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Telanu/pseuds/Telanu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gaius Baltar comes up with a foolproof way to tell Cylons from humans. No, not that one.</p><p>Alternate summary: Robots made them do it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beta Tested

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: BSG is property of Sy Fy, Ron Moore, whoever, but not me. I'm making no money from this story or anything else on the site.
> 
> Story is set during Season 1, "Six Degrees of Separation."
> 
> Thanks to: chainofclovers for a terrific and very helpful beta read.

As usual, Gaius Baltar wasn't sure how it had come to this. Why Shelly Godfrey had loosened those perfect lips and talked, instead of running for the...hills, or wherever it was Cylons could run to, once she'd tried and failed to seduce Adama. But she'd given everything up. She'd given him away.

And the Six in his head wasn't exactly brimful of sympathy.

"I'm not ashamed, Gaius," she said, as Gaius crashed against a wall in the brig. "What we had was important. It was real." She sneered at him and folded her arms. "Pity the Colonials won't exactly see it that way."

Indeed they wouldn't, Gaius noted fuzzily, as Lee Adama himself, bloody Apollo, stepped right into his face, yelling and letting spittle fly. In the corner, Lieutenant Thrace, that lovely girl, stood with a baton at the ready, but not going on the attack. It was the classic good-cop-bad-cop routine, but Gaius had to admit it was working like a charm. He was about ready to shit his pants, and they didn't even know the whole truth of his involvement in the Fall. Yet.

"A toaster-frakker, huh?" Apollo shouted, grabbing Gaius by his shirt and pinning him against the wall. "You were in real good with the Cylons, huh?"

"I didn't know," Gaius whimpered. "Truly, Captain, I didn't--"

Apollo dropped him on the floor. "Get up. You're going to talk, Baltar. You are finally, finally going to talk and tell us everything we want to know. And then." He bent down until they were nose-to-nose, and Gaius knew Apollo had eaten that dreadful oatmeal for breakfast. "If you're helpful. If you cooperate. I might be able to persuade the commander and President Roslin that you should spend the rest of eternity in this brig instead of spaced out an airlock."

Thrace snorted. "Good luck, Lee." She tilted her head to the side. "You ask me, they're going to torture him first."

"Slowly, but surely," Six agreed, a purr in her voice.

"Pull him apart," Thrace continued. "Cut him into small pieces." She smacked the baton into the palm of her head. "Or just hit him with one of these until all his bones are broken. Can I get first crack?"

"Lieutenant, no," Gaius begged, letting go of his absurd infatuation once and for all. The girl was a monster. "Please. What do you need to know? If I can tell you--I promise I'll--"

"Tell us everything about her," Apollo snarled. "Everything about that Cylon bitch."

"Dirty mouth," Six chided, glowering at him.

"When you frakked her, and where, and every godsdamn thing you observed about her, because I swear to the gods, Baltar, your only job is to help us find where the frakking Cylons are hiding out, and if you don't--"

"But I already told you, I didn't know she was a Cylon then," Gaius pleaded. "It wasn't until later, when she--"

"Right. Your imaginary robot girlfriend," Thrace said, rolling her eyes. "The one in your head."

"I'm just as real as she is, Gaius," Six murmured, gliding over to where Thrace stood, standing next to her and giving the impression of a willow by an oak tree, both in the full green of summer. Except there were no more oaks or willows, and no more summer, come to that. "She just doesn't know God's plan for her. That's all."

"She's real. I think. I can't explain. Please," Gaius said.

"Will you give me away, Gaius?" Six asked. She circled around Thrace, and then returned to Gaius's side. "Maybe you should. Maybe that's part of God's plan for you."

"It is?" Gaius wheezed, looking up at her.

"Perhaps. It can't hurt. Well, maybe it can."

"'It is' what?" Apollo demanded. He glanced at the same spot where Gaius was looking at Six. "What are you looking at?"

"And why the hell do you spend so much time talking to yourself?" Thrace added. "Everybody's noticed it. At first I thought it was because you were just some weird genius."

"She's here," Gaius whispered, looking up at Six. As he spoke, her face bloomed into a smile. "She's right here. With me. Right now."

"That's right, Gaius," she said. "No more disclaiming me. No more being ashamed."

"Frak!" Thrace said, looking around with wide eyes and hoisting her baton. Apollo drew his gun, and Six laughed.

"Are they, can they turn themselves invisible?" Apollo asked. "What do you mean, she's here?"

"Tell him," Six said. "Tell him how Cylons are different. The only foolproof way."

"What?" Gaius said.

Apollo pistol-whipped him with nary a thought, knocking Gaius to the ground. "You heard me, you sonofabitch!" He leaned forward and hauled Gaius up to his knees while Gaius's head lolled backwards.

"Don't knock him out, Lee," Thrace admonished. "Not yet, anyway. Gods!"

"Think about it," Six urged. "When we are together. When we make love. What you saw last week, as you took me from behind."

It was getting hard to think. Thrace had a point. But Gaius remembered this much. "Red," he mumbled.

"What?" Apollo said, but at least he didn't hit Gaius again.

"You pleasured me," she said. "You've always pleased me so much, Gaius. And so many others. You're wonderful."

"Thank you," Gaius said, swaying.

"Oh, frak me," Apollo said, actually sounding worried.

"How the hell hard did you hit him?" Thrace demanded.

"Well..."

"On Caprica, I never let you take me from behind," Six said. "Remember how you asked to? And I never would. Because then you would see."

"Oh, gods," Gaius breathed, as it suddenly became clear. He could have wept with gratitude. He reached out towards her, and she took his hand. "Oh, gods. That's it."

"Baltar--"

"Captain." Gaius took a deep breath. "Captain Apollo."

"You don't get to call me that," Apollo said, his lips twisting back in a snarl. "You don't ever get to call me that."

"I know how," Gaius said. "She just told me. I mean I've just remembered. Something like that. How to detect a Cylon."

"She _just_ told you," Thrace said scornfully, but Apollo--Adama--who the frak ever, didn't waste any more time. "Out with it," he said.

Muttering through puffy, bloodied lips, whistling through the hole where a tooth had been, and holding on to Six's hand, Gaius told him.

 

* * *

 

Lee was pretty sure he should be more elated than he was. Or at least satisfied, or relieved, or something like that. But instead, as he stared above the heads of his father and Laura Roslin, he found himself wishing that he were somewhere else. Anywhere else.

Or that Kara were here in his stead. She'd wanted to be. It was, in fact, the only time he'd heard her actually beg for anything. Why hadn't he listened?

"Their spines?" Adama asked him. Lee wasn't looking at him, but he could practically hear the frown. "We can tell Cylons by their spines?"

"Sort of, sir," Lee said, thinking wistfully of his Viper and how far it could take him into space. "Under very specific circumstances."

"And what circumstances are those, Captain?" Roslin inquired, precisely enunciating every syllable like the teacher she'd been, her voice as soft and calm as always.

Lee briefly closed his eyes. "They turn red, Madam President."

"Red?"

"Captain," Adama said, in the voice that meant he was out of patience, "I suggest you hurry up your explanation."

"Orgasm," Lee blurted, just like that. "Baltar says that their spines turn red during orgasm."

In the ensuing silence, a gunman did not burst into the room, a Cylon basestar did not appear and blast the Fleet to hell, and Lee Adama did not drop dead of a heart attack. It was a pity.

"Pardon me?" Roslin said.

"He's yanking your chain, Lee," Adama said. "For the gods' sake."

"I don't think so, sir," Lee said, finally looking his father dead in the eye. "At first I did, but then, I looked at him, and talked to him a little more, and--I think he's actually telling the truth, as crazy as it is. So does Starbuck."

Adama took off his glasses and rubbed his hands over his eyes.

"What about Shelly Godfrey?" Lee said desperately. "Can't you get her to corroborate, or at least ask her--"

"She's gone," Adama said. "Disappeared. Without a trace. Before we could get more out of her, and I know there's more to Baltar's story. His role in all this." He sighed and sat back in his chair, exchanging a glance with Roslin. "We're looking, Madam President."

"I know you are," Roslin said, and then turned her look on Lee. That look always shocked him, somehow, coming from her: flat, deadly, taking no prisoners.

"Orgasm," she said.

"Yeah," Lee croaked, feeling all the blood rush to his face. Well. Most of the blood. Frak, these military trousers were-- "I mean, yes, sir."

"The only way we can tell Cylons apart from humans is when they..." And for once, her calm, even voice petered out. She cleared her throat. "Right."

"How the hell," Adama said, "are we supposed to test for _that?"_

"Er," Lee said.

"We could institute mandatory--I mean, we could..." Again, Roslin trailed off. "No. No, we couldn't."

"It's got to be something in the nerves. A spinal tap. Something," Adama said. "We can ask Doc Cottle."

"Spinal taps for everybody in the Fleet?" Lee asked, twisting his hands behind his back. "That's fairly intensive. Do we have the resources for it?"

Adama stared up at him. "Do we have the resources for the other option?"

"Well," Lee said, "I mean, you'd need less equipment, wouldn't y..." He closed his eyes again.

Then he heard a faint giggle. He opened his eyes to see the president sitting with her fingertips pressed to her mouth, her face red, her eyes sparkling like a girl's. He swallowed hard.

"Excuse me," Roslin said, trying to straighten her face out again and look appropriately solemn.

"Madam President, this is serious," Adama said.

"I do appreciate that, Commander," Roslin said, her eyes still gleaming.

"I hope so," Adama said. For the first time, something like satisfaction appeared on his face. "Because from what I understand, everybody in the Fleet is very curious about Gaius Baltar's detainment."

Lee watched Roslin's expression instantly shift into wariness. "Naturally."

"And I'm not the one who has to give press conferences," Adama finished.

Now Roslin's eyes widened. Lee felt his shoulders go rigid.

Adama actually grinned.

 

* * *

 

This was not the first time Laura Roslin had cursed the press, but she could not recall having cursed it quite so fervently before. She was in no shape for this. Only two days ago, she'd taken too many painkillers and passed out at her desk. And then Dr. Cottle had given her a shot. In the ass.

She'd thought, at the time, that nothing could leave her feeling less dignified.

"Madam President," Playa Palacios asked, holding out her microphone, "Gaius Baltar is in custody. Is it true that he's divulged information on how to detect Cylons?"

"We've heard you have a foolproof method," McManus said, looking extremely skeptical. "Is it wise of you to release it to the public at this time?" All the other reporters looked at him in horror. "What? I'm only saying, in the interests of Fleet security, that for once maybe--"

"It is perfectly secure," Laura said, gripping the side of her podium and begging for strength from the gods. "From what we can tell, most people won't be in a hurry to rip out their own spines."

After a pause, McManus said, "Excuse me?"

"Um," Laura said.

 

* * *

 

"Aren't we on duty?" Lee asked weakly.

"Always," Tigh said, raising his glass. "Pull up a chair anyway." Then he reached over and turned up the radio.

Adama picked up a small tin and waved it towards Lee. "Brittle? I've been saving it for a special occasion."

"N-no thanks," Lee said, as he sat down.

_"The situation is complicated,"_ Roslin's voice said over the radio.

"Oh gods, it doesn't get any better than this," Tigh said reverently as he took a piece of brittle and leaned in closer.

"Has she announced it yet?" Lee asked.

"Not yet," Adama replied. Lee blushed. He wasn't sure whether to be disappointed or not, but either way, he didn't know how many times he could handle listening to Laura Roslin saying the word 'orgasm.' No matter how good the cause.

Damn Gaius Baltar. Keeping a secret like this literally under his belt. Putting the Fleet in deadly danger. Putting Laura--the president in--and then Baltar had the nerve to call him Captain Apollo. No. Just, no. That nickname meant something to Lee. So did the person who had bestowed it.

_"At this point,"_ that person said, _"I would like to recommend that parents of younger children exercise their judgment during this broadcast. Its subject matter will be decidedly adult."_

_"What does that mean, Madam President?"_ asked that female reporter with the weird hair, whose name Lee couldn't remember, except that it was something bizarre with two 'P's.

"Yes, explain, Madam President," said Adama. Lee couldn't remember the last time he'd seen his father in such a good mood. Certainly not since the attack on the Colonies.

Roslin sighed. Then she said, _"We have discovered, thanks to Dr. Baltar's confession, that the Cylon nervous system responds in very specific, unusual ways to certain kinds of stimulation."_

_"Like what?"_

_"Well."_ Laura Roslin, Lee knew, did not generally hesitate. _"Allow me to repeat that parents should--"_ There was another pause. _"From what we understand, the Cylon nervous system reaches some kind of critical heat point during sexual intercourse."_

Tigh leaned back in his chair with the biggest shit-eating grin that Lee had ever seen.

_"What?"_ Lee recognized this guy. Andrew McManus. _"Madam President, are you having us on?"_

_"No."_ Lee could just imagine her clenched jaw. _"I am not. Dr. Baltar has had occasion to observe, apparently with--_ at _some length--"_

Tigh and Adama both roared with laughter.

_"--and he says that the spines of Cylons glow bright red when they attain, that is, achieve--"_ Roslin cleared her throat. Don't say it, Lee silently begged. _"--satisfaction,"_ she concluded. And somehow, that was worse.

_"Do you actually accept Baltar's word on this, Madam President?"_ the Two-P woman reporter asked.

_"The interrogation team at_ Galactica _have assured me that his testimony is honest,"_ Roslin said. _"I have faith in their methods."_

_"But how are you going to test this?"_ McManus asked. _"I mean, you can't seriously be suggesting--"_

_"Suggesting what, Mr. McManus?"_ Roslin asked, and now Lee could just imagine the deadly sweet smile on her face. He'd always liked that smile a lot.

_"I..."_ McManus paused. _"I have no idea. How are you going to test this?"_ he repeated.

"Good question," Adama said, looking more sober now.

_"We are currently trying to devise a method,"_ Roslin replied. Lee didn't have to try at all to hear the evasion in her voice.

_"Madam President,"_ asked Two-P, _"are you going to require that everyone in the Fleet have an orgasm as a security clearance?"_

_"I--no, that's not what I said. I believe..."_

_"Wouldn't that constitute some kind of violation of civil liberties, or at least privacy? And what about minors and children?"_

_"As I said,"_ Roslin repeated, _"we are hard at work on an alternative method. I assure you, Ms. Palacios"_ \--oh, so that's who it was-- _"no civil liberties will be infringed upon."_

"Says her," Tigh muttered, but Lee was only half paying attention. The president's voice was showing signs of strain. Exasperation, or something worse? She had trusted him with her secret, with the knowledge that she was dying of cancer, and ever since then, half of Lee's brain had remained on red alert for any sign of trouble.

This also, he had decided, made his attraction to her even more inexplicable. And frakked up. Why couldn't he have fixated on some nice, healthy girl his own age?

_"Madam President,"_ said another reporter, sounding sly, _"may we assume that the highest-ranking officials in the Fleet will be the first to be tested, as a matter of security priorities?"_

"Ouch," Tigh said, grinning and reaching for more brittle. "Who the hell'd want to take on that job?"

"Like we've got room to talk," Adama said, sounding amused, while Lee alternated between wanting to punch Tigh (common enough) and wanting to sink through the floor (becoming distressingly common enough).

_"At this time, we have no more information to disclose,"_ Roslin said, sounding very cold. Lee actually got a chill. _"Rest assured that the Fleet will be made aware of developments as they occur."_

_"But, Madam President--"_

Adama turned off the radio. When Roslin said a press conference was over, it was over; Lee could already picture her retreating behind the curtain. "I'll be damned," he said, shaking his head and chuckling. "Well, she got through it."

"Was there ever any doubt?" Lee asked, nearly snapping it.

His father looked at him with a fleeting expression of surprise. "Fun time's over," he said, as if Lee hadn't spoken. "That gave us a couple of grins, but now it's back to work. We have to find some way to run this test."

"In the absence of watching Baltar frak a Cylon," Tigh said.

"In the absence of that," Adama agreed. "Although I'd actually consent to it, if we had one on hand. Anything's worth a shot." Then he shook his head ruefully. "Of course, we do have several on hand, which is the whole problem in the first place."

"I'll get in touch with Cottle again," Tigh offered. "See if he's noodled out any solutions."

"Do that," Adama said, and Tigh left. Adama turned to Lee. "Of course, the person who's best qualified to help actually is Baltar."

Lee blinked. "Are you really considering--"

"Hell, no. Not unless it's an absolute last resort. All right, Captain. Go be a CAG again. There's nothing else you can do about this." He glared at Lee. "Except keep a lid on the guffaws."

Lee's chances on keeping his subordinates from guffawing were somewhere between 'zero' and 'none.' His father must have known this, because he added, "At least, in excess. This is embarrassing enough."

"Yes, sir." Lee saluted and left, thoroughly glad to get out of there.

He could hear the hooting and laughter coming from the hangar bay several corridors ahead. Great. This was going to be fun. "Control yourselves," he snapped as he strode into the bay, watching soldiers snap to attention.

"Yeah, it's very funny," Lee continued. "Laugh and let it go. You all have jobs to do." They nodded, chastened, and returned to their work. Except, of course, for frakking Kara.

"What's crawled up your ass?" she drawled. "Why don't you think this is gut-bustingly hilarious? Even you aren't that much of a stick."

"It's a serious matter," Lee said, and almost winced. Weak. "So I'm just trying to take it, um, seriously."

"Don't tell me you didn't even crack a smile during Roslin's broadcast," Kara said. She dropped her voice down into a whisper that was uncannily accurate. "They turn red when they attain... _satisfaction._ " Lee felt his face getting hot, and Kara crowed with laughter. "And now look who's turning red. You poor bastard. You didn't even get to come first."

No shit, Lee thought gloomily. And it didn't seem to be in the cards anytime soon, either.

 

* * *

 

"You did great, Madam President," Billy said, pressing a glass of water into her hand.

"That's not the word I'd use," Laura replied. "You're very generous."

"Well, it's a tough situation," Billy said, shaking his head. "I mean, who'd have thought that Cylons--" Then he stopped, blushed, and turned away.

"This is the problem, isn't it?" Laura said. "We can't even talk about this like adults. Ridiculous. Billy, repeat after me."

"Uh..."

"Repeat after me."

"D-do I have to?"

"Cylons glow red when they have orgasms."

"Only their spines," Billy objected.

"Just repeat it," Laura said, although she rather wondered if this didn't constitute some kind of sexual harassment.

"Cylonsgloredhorgasms," Billy muttered, looking at his shoes.

"Oh, great," Laura said, putting down her water glass with a little more force than strictly necessary. "You can't say it, I trip over my own tongue in front of the press, the press act like a bunch of ten-year-olds saying dirty words, and gods know what the actual people of the Fleet think about all this."

Billy looked up and tried a tentative smile. "I'm just trying to imagine Zarek's next manifesto."

Laura laughed at that before she could stop herself. "Stop trying to frighten me."

"So what now? What do we do now?"

"We try to figure out what's going on, that's what," Laura said. "Commander Adama has Dr. Cottle investigating the situation."

"Oh." Billy looked relieved. "Then you'll hear all about it, won't you?"

"No," Laura said, to Billy's evident surprise. "Cottle has been remarkably discreet about keeping my condition from the commander. I imagine he will be equally discreet about maintaining military protocol when it works the other way around."

"But you're the president. You need to know what's happening," Billy protested.

"I couldn't agree more," Laura said. "That's why I have a military adviser." She reached for the receiver on her desk. "Put me through to Captain Adama."

"Sure thing," Billy said, though he looked a little reluctant. Laura wondered why. Lee Adama's new role in her life wasn't exactly news to Billy by now, and she knew he understood the importance of having a connection between _Colonial One_ and _Galactica_.

Between _Colonial One_ and _Galactica_ only, of course. And between the president and her military adviser. Not between Laura Roslin and Lee Adama. Which was surely a pity. But it was no doubt for the best: after all, Captain Apollo was twenty years younger than she, and the son of the commander to boot. The civilian-military balance in the Fleet was precarious at best. She had to keep these things in mind, no matter how delectable he'd been during that briefing. Debriefing. Whatever they called it.

And wrapped around all the rest: her own death, the ever-looming certainty of it, the end of everything she might wish for herself within a few months' time.

Gods damn it. If things had been different--even one of those factors. If she were younger, or not dying, or if he were not William Adama's son, any of that, she'd have had him on his back before he could say, "Jump."

Too bad, really. Laura forced back that feeling that had begun, unfortunately, to morph from a brief, half-amused pang of regret to something sharper and altogether more painful. Billy nodded at her, and Laura picked up the receiver. "Captain Apollo?" she asked, hearing her voice warm against her will.

"Madam President?" He sounded a little surprised, maybe at her tone, and Laura quickly cleared her throat and did not look at Billy.

"I need you to make time for a meeting with me at your earliest convenience," she said. "I'm sure you know that we need to talk about this recent development."

"I, ah, if you want, of course, sir," he said.

Laura blinked. "You sound reluctant."

"What? No!" he replied at once. "I mean, no, sir, of course I'm not. I'm just not sure what either of us can do at this point, except wait."

Hurry up and wait. The military credo. Not her favorite. "You are my military adviser, are you not?" she asked, keeping her voice light. "I can use some military advice. At, as I said, your earliest convenience."

"I can stop by this evening," he offered. "At 2100 hours."

Laura looked at the clock. 1600 now. It would mean she'd have to rush the meeting with the Canceron delegation: something she would not regret. "Very well. I'll see you then."

"Yes, Madam President."

"Thank you," Laura replied, and hung up on him.

"Is he coming?" Billy asked. Then, inexplicably, he stammered, "I m-mean, stopping by? Is what I mean."

"This evening," Laura said, briefly mystified, before she figured it out. And turned a cackle into a cough just in time.

_Is he coming._ She should be so lucky. Poor Billy; if only he knew.

 

* * *

 

She had to think he was completely blind, Billy thought as he sorted through the afternoon's paperwork while the president welcomed the Canceron delegation. He was glad he didn't have to stand behind her shoulder for this one. As it was, he only caught snatches of extremely predictable conversation. The meeting was supposed to be about increased rationing, but of course they were all talking about Cylon sex instead.

He supposed it was better than watching President Roslin think about Apollo sex. That was getting kind of embarrassing. It was like watching your mom. Except that Billy's mom was dead, along with everyone else, and Laura Roslin was all he had.

Well. There was also Dee. The thought made Billy blush. They'd had a couple of fantastic makeout sessions in the observation lounge, but they hadn't gotten into...spine-checking territory yet. He lived in hope, though. Prayed to the gods. Because Dee was the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen, and she could have anyone she wanted, and he had no idea why she wanted him, but he wasn't going to waste it.

Time was precious. So was life. So was love.

Frak. Maybe there were worse things than President Roslin getting some action before she was too sick to enjoy it, even if the thought made Billy feel kind of queasy himself. Why shouldn't the president have a little fun when everything else was going to hell? Of course, all of that depended on Captain Apollo being interested too.

Which he was. Double frak.

"Are you in communication with Commander Adama, Madam President?" Billy heard the chief delegate ask.

"Captain Apo--Adama will be stopping by Colonial One this evening to apprise me of the most recent developments," Roslin said. "I assure you that the military and my administration will work together on this. Closely together."

Billy looked at her, and saw that her eyes had glazed over a little.

Sometimes he hated this job.

 

* * *

 

Lee knew that if he was going to see the president, he'd damn well better have something to tell her. So the moment he got off his shift, he eschewed the mess hall and went straight to sickbay. He wasn't sorry to leave his duties behind; in spite of his best efforts to keep a lid on the merriment, by the time he'd left theories had been flying around about military-issue porn and government-provided vibrators.

Unsurprisingly, Lee's father was in sickbay too, consulting with Cottle. Lee saluted as he entered the room. "Any progress?" he asked.

"Doctor," Adama invited, nodding towards Lee.

Cottle held up an X-Ray in one hand, and a copy of an anatomy book in another. "The vertebral column, Captain," he said. "A fascinating string of nerve endings that keeps you walking upright, hurts like a bitch if you put a tattoo over it, and lights up like a cigarette tip if you're a very happy Cylon."

"And?" Lee said.

"And it's my job to suss out what happens to it when a human being gets really happy too," Cottle said. "Would you believe that there is a shocking lack of research on the connection between the spinal column and the sex response? At least, since humanity got nuked. These books are all I have, and this wasn't exactly my area of expertise before." He gestured at a shelf full of medical textbooks that looked pretty impressive to Lee, but that no doubt were a pathetic sample of what they would have had in the life before.

"So what are you going to do, Doctor?" Lee asked.

"I need a readout from a known non-Cylon," Cottle said, "at the critical moment, if you know what I mean. Then I know what to look for. Be far preferable to have a Cylon for comparison's sake, of course, but that's the whole problem, isn't it?"

"A readout?" Lee repeated, trying to keep up, glancing at his father. Adama raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.

"Cylon guts look like our guts," Cottle said. "But clearly there is some kind of major deviation, if this happens. Something we can't see with the naked eye. So I need an inside look." He reached down to his desk and pulled up a syringe. "And I have an idea." He looked at Adama. "Can I--?"

"Allow me," Adama said. He put his hands behind his back, squared his shoulders, and looked at Lee. "The doctor is only beginning his work, of course. Essentially, what he is saying is that he needs to know very specific things about the human spine, and pre-existing research is no longer available to us."

Lee stared at him, and tried not to sound too annoyed when he said, "I got that, sir."

Adama nodded towards the syringe. "We've got an implant we can affix to a humanoid spine. That will, when removed, give us a readout of the spine's normal responses to orgasm, so we can be more prepared to find deviations from the pattern."

"But you want a non-Cylon," Lee said. "And we have no way of knowing who..."

"I know who I trust," Adama said, "and who I don't." Then he looked Lee dead in the eye.

After a moment, Lee said, "I could be a Cylon. I really could. Maybe I am. You know what, I probably am. There's no way to tell. It's much too risky--you definitely want somebody el--"

"Captain," Adama said.

"You're joking. You've got to be joking."

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"What are you going to do?" Lee asked, hearing his voice climb up into hysteria. "Have me jerk off on camera so you can get a look from behind, just to make sure?"

"It's a thought," Cottle said.

"No! No, it is not a frakking thought! I don't even think I _could!"_

"Captain," Adama repeated.

"I mean, could you? Under those circumstances? Great Lords of Kobol--"

"Lee," Adama growled, with enough force in it that Lee came to his senses and shut right the hell up. "You are not a Cylon."

"You don't know that," Lee said. It was true. Adama didn't; nobody did. Beyond Lee's own mortification, it was crucial to make his father understand this. "You do not know that."

"I don't know," Adama said. "But I believe. You're my son." He shook his head. "Trust me when I say this is just about the last conversation I ever wanted to have with you, but..."

"With all due respect, sir, why can't you do it?" Lee demanded. "Or Colonel Tigh? You trust him too, right?"

"There are three people I trust implicitly, besides myself," Adama said. "That would be you, Colonel Tigh, and Kara Thrace."

Lee swallowed. "W-what are you suggesting?"

"You're right," Adama said. "We need to make sure. So--" He closed his eyes briefly. "Do what it takes. I know I can count on you for that. You won't let me down."

Like Tigh had, so many times. Like Kara had, with Zak, and then with years of lying by omission. Adama would forgive them both as many times as it took, Lee knew, but he was in a different position. There wasn't a lot of love lost between Lee and his father, but Lee had never yet frakked up so badly that his judgment could be called into question.

So far, his father had eventually approved of every call he'd made. Even when Lee had sided with Roslin after the holocaust, determined to protect the civilian refugees rather than pursue the enemy in a suicidal run, Adama had been man enough to admit that it had been the right move. Even when Lee had negotiated with Tom Zarek, Adama had conceded later that it had been a relief to find workers who were willing to mine water for the Fleet. Their differences were philosophical, not based on colossal mistakes, misunderstandings, and screw-ups.  
  
So Lee was first choice now. Lucky him. And there was no philosophical way out of this that he could see.

"Do what it takes," Adama repeated. "Whatever that is. Do you understand, Captain?"

Lee lifted his chin and straightened his shoulders. "Yes, sir," he said, trying not to mutter but unable to look his father in the eye. "I do."

"I don't need the details. You get this done, you report officially to me that your back didn't turn red, we get that damn implant out of your spine, and Doc Cottle begins his work so that the entire Fleet does not spontaneously combust from either indignation or laughter. And we never speak of this again."

"Yes, sir," Lee said through clenched teeth. "I'll do what I have to do."

But the fact remained: he couldn't do it on camera. Not knowing that his dad, Cottle, and probably Tigh to boot were going to view the footage, just to make sure. Oh gods. No, he couldn't do that.

'Whatever it takes,' Adama had said, and he was going to defer to Lee's judgment; and Lee saw only one way out of this that was less humiliating than a camera, even if it was only moderately so. Hell, it was so obvious that Adama might as well have come right out and said it, although Lee was grateful he hadn't. Adama trusted Lee, Tigh, and…Kara. And Lee couldn't do this alone.

She was going to kill him. She'd understand completely, she'd feel the same in his position, and she was going to kill him anyway.

"Then at your leisure, Captain," Cottle said, dragging Lee back to the present. "Truthfully, the injection won't take more than half an hour. The removal is a little more involved, but this is the easy part."

"Okay. Sure." Lee rubbed his forehead. "I understand my orders, Commander. I'll, um, take care of matters tonight, after my meeting with the president."

"You have a meeting with President Roslin?" Adama asked, frowning.

Lee hated this part of his job: hated walking the tightrope between his dad and Roslin, knowing when to keep things hush-hush and when to maintain full disclosure. He hadn't wanted to broadcast his visit to _Colonial One_ , but actively trying to hide it would have been far worse. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Then you can update her on the latest..." Adama paused, and said, "I'll leave it to your discretion on how many details you divulge. Let's put it that way."

"Thank you, sir," Lee said fervently.

"But she needs to know how things generally stand," Adama added. "I don't want to undermine that." The 'too much' went unsaid.

"Got it," Lee replied, already trying to think of the exact phrase he would use to tell President Laura Roslin that he had to get some officially-commanded tail for the good of all humanity, and he had to get it from the woman who should have been his sister-in-law.

"Follow me, Captain," Cottle said, gesturing to a nearby examination bed. "I'll have everything ready in a few minutes. Then you can head off to your meeting, no trouble."

Or maybe he'd just tell her that he was a Cylon. Then she could pitch him out an airlock.

 

* * *

 

Kara couldn't remember the last time she'd heard Lee sound this stupid. She adjusted the receiver, leaned against the wall of the corridor, and said, "You're going to have to repeat that, _sir."_

"I said, I have to talk to you later this evening," Lee repeated, much more clearly than before. "It's about the, uh, problem. With the new Cylon…information."

"Yeah?" Kara raised her eyebrows. "Cottle's already on to something? What do you have?"

"Not exactly. Not yet. I--um, I kind of have to tell you this in person. Trust me. Just make sure you're available after your shift tonight, okay?"

"Ooh. A mystery." Kara smirked. "Where are you, anyway?"

"On my way to a meeting." For some reason, Lee sounded a little choked when he added, "With the president."

"Wow. I am totally going to want the scuttlebutt on that one," Kara said, grinning. "If it's not classified, Apollo, you had better give me the lowdown on what the illustrious Roslin has to say about all this behind closed doors."

"Uh...closed...uh...yeah," Lee said. Now his voice seemed to be fading over the connection. "I gotta go. I'll call you when the meeting's over."

"Sure thing," Kara said, and hung up without waiting to be dismissed.

Well, this was weird. If the matter were anything really dire or life-threatening, he would have come right out with it, not put it off. And while Lee could be a cagey bastard, he didn't usually sound as nervous as a little kid with his hand in a candy jar. Whatever he had to tell her was making him really, really, really uncomfortable.

Kara rubbed her hands together and grinned. She could hardly wait to find out.

 

* * *

 

President Roslin could tell something was wrong. Lee knew that at once.

She'd been able to read him from the first moment they met. Twisted him around her finger, too, by making him feel special. All it had taken was one conspiratorial smile to charm him; one teasing "Captain Apollo has a nice ring to it," in the face of his own father's disapproval, to move him; and one expression of absolute faith and trust, asking him to advise her during her illness, to sucker him in completely. Now he was sitting across her desk from her, his sweating hands plastered to his knees while she frowned at him, clearly aware that matters were amiss.

"You know something," she said. "Cottle's figured it out."

"Sort of, Madam President," Lee said. He cleared his throat. "That is, he's figured out how he wants to start his research. He's not anywhere close to a solution yet. But he knows how to start making inquiries, so hopefully we'll have a real answer soon." Please, please, please let that be enough.

"Inquiries?" Roslin said with a frown. "What does that mean?"

Okay, maybe this would be enough. "He wants to know more about how the human spine works. Really specifically," Lee said, trying not to think about the microscopic implant hanging around on his own spine right now, waiting for Kara Thrace to give it a thrill. "He's a military doctor, not a specialist."

"I'm aware," Roslin said dryly.

"You're--oh, right," Lee said, flushing. "But anyway, he's conducting research on human subjects."

"How does he know they're human?" Roslin asked. "Isn't that the point?"

"Er--" Lee was fidgeting. Frak. She could totally see it. "There are screening precautions in place."

"Captain." Roslin folded her hands on the desk and looked him clearly in the eye. "Out with it. Tell me everything."

Lee gulped. "Uh, well, there are a lot of small technical details, it's kind of boring, really, but the gist of it is--you really only need the gist. Which is--"

"Billy," Roslin said, glancing over at her omnipresent aide, "I have the feeling this is about to get Top Secret."

"Yes, Madam President," Billy said, getting to his feet.

"Wait," Lee said.

"Not at all," Roslin said, looking right back at him. "You must feel able to speak freely."

"Just call me when you need me," Billy said, heading out the door. He glanced over at them with an expression that seemed apprehensive. Lee was kind of surprised that Dualla was going for the guy, actually. It was a frakking shame, because the old man trusted Dualla too, and if she hadn't been going out with Billy, maybe Lee could have persuaded her to-- _and_ she wasn't Kara.

Gods above and below, how was he supposed to survive this night?

"Captain," Roslin prompted. He looked up at her. She had one eyebrow raised, and was leaning subtly forward over the desk. It was a pretty nice desk, actually. Big and sturdy. He'd spent a lot more time than was strictly necessary thinking about this desk.

Oh. Great. Down, boy, he said to his dick, which wasn't listening.

He took a deep breath. "Sir," he said, "with all due respect, there are some details I am going to leave out of my report. This has to be at my discretion." She frowned. "I'm asking you to trust me."

And that was that. She nodded silently, and gave him a little smile of acceptance. "Understood," she said.

And suddenly, so viciously that it shocked him, Lee wished like all hell that things were different, and that he was the kind of man she'd look twice at. But they weren't, and he wasn't, and the rest of his evening was pretty much shot, so he might as well earn all this frakking trust she was handing him like a pile of credits he'd won in a Triad game.

He took a deep breath and straightened his shoulders. "Dr. Cottle is using me as a test subject for a, um, procedure."

She frowned, and then sounded concerned when she said, "A test subject? Is this procedure safe?" Then she scowled. "No. Of course it's not, or they wouldn't need a test subject."

"Well…it's not quite like that," Lee said.

"I don't want you put at unnecessary risk."

"I won't be," Lee said, wondering how many limbs he was going to lose when he told Kara what was up. Evidently it made him sound less than convincing, because Roslin narrowed her eyes behind her glasses.

(He'd thought too much about those, too. He'd tear off her glasses, toss them to the side, and say in a deep and manly voice, "I'm with you all the way, Laura." "Oh, Captain Apollo!" she'd breathe. Then the desk came in handy.)

"I do trust you," Roslin said, pulling him back into real life. "That said, I would very much appreciate it if you could tell me more about what is happening. I need to know--you're my military adviser. I need to know if you're in danger, even if I can't do anything about it."

"I'm not in danger," Lee lied. "It's nothing like that. I got an implant in my spine so Dr. Cottle can, uh, monitor how it works. That's all."

Roslin blinked. Then, obviously undeceived, she said, "That's all, is it? Then why couldn't you just say so?"

"Um--"

"An implant in your spine. So what's the problem? Is it in danger of damaging your nervous system?"

"Gods, I hope not," said Lee, who hadn't really considered that possibility. Maybe he should have. But then again, he was getting this thing taken out of him first thing tomorrow if he had anything to say about it.

"Lee," Roslin said softly, "please tell me."

He honestly couldn't remember if she'd ever said his name before, but that didn't matter, because she'd said it now and it felt like she'd thrown him out an airlock for real. No more oxygen. She'd made the very appeal she knew would touch him; he could admire that, even as he succumbed to it.

"I'm going to have sex," he said, and almost choked because he wished so much for something that wasn't going to happen, and also because that had sounded incredibly weird out loud. "As part of the test," he added quickly.

She stared at him for a long moment, her expression so unchanging that he wondered if she'd heard him. Then she said, pleasantly, "I'm sorry?"

Lee took a deep breath. "It's kind of involved, but the long and short of it is, Doc Cottle is tracking what--if anything--goes on in the spine of a human being in the moment of orgasm so he can know what's normal, before he goes looking for what isn't." Roslin's eyes kept getting bigger and bigger. She definitely heard him now. "So, um, I'm sort of the--my father suggested I--"

"Your father?" Roslin said in disbelief.

"He pretty much ordered me," Lee admitted, a little fascinated by the blush reddening her cheeks. "I mean, sort of. There's a small group of people he trusts. And..." Damn. There was no way to finish this without sounding like the biggest idiot in the world. He should have said that he'd volunteered like a brave soldier; that would have sounded, well, ridiculous, but still a hell of a lot better than "my dad's making me."

"You have to have sex," Roslin said. Lee nodded mutely. "As in...with somebody else?"

Lee gave her a small smile in spite of himself. "That's usually how it works, Madam President."

"Except when it doesn't," Roslin said, and pressed her lips together, looking just as uncomfortable as he felt. "Why can't you just, um, take care of it yourself?"

Why was nobody but Lee seeing that idea to its logical conclusion? "Yeah. While they're watching me to check out my spine?"

"Oh," Roslin said.

"Yes, sir. So--I have to do it with somebody trustworthy."

"Trustworthy," she repeated.

"Yeah. You know. If I get a bad case of Red Spine, they'll tell my dad about it." Or if Kara got one, Lee supposed, he'd return the favor. Not that he could imagine such a possibility. Kara as a Cylon? They'd all be dead by now.

It wasn't like he'd never wondered about Kara in bed, of course. Sure, she was attractive. When she'd started dating Zak, there had been plenty of times--but, of course, she'd been dating Zak. So she went from zero to sister right away, and there was no turning back that clock. Right?

He was so frakked.

"I see," Roslin said. She cleared her throat and glanced towards the windows. "So...you're looking for..."

"Somebody trustworthy," Lee repeated.

"Yes. Naturally. Somebody in a position of...um."

"Yeah. Tonight, in fact."

"Tonight?" Roslin asked faintly.

"Definitely tonight. It's pretty urgent, wouldn't you say?"

"I--well, yes, of course. So you're--"

"And there's a very, very short list of people. I mean women. Really, there's just one woman."

Roslin looked back at him. Her whole face was scarlet. "Just one?"

"Yes." Lee sucked it up. "Lieutenant Thrace. Starbuck. She's--well, of course you know who she..."

He trailed off when he noticed that Laura Roslin's face was doing interesting things, color-wise. First, it had gone quite pale, but now it was redder than ever. Her jaw clenched. Her eyes got a weird spark in them.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked her in alarm.

"Kara Thrace," she said.

"Um. Yeah. Honestly, I'd rather not, but--" The hell? She didn't need to know that. "I mean--"

"You are going, as a matter of Fleet security, to have sex with Lieutenant Kara Thrace."

Lee could not possibly have felt more humiliated. He clenched his own jaw and looked down at his knees, straining for control. She had no right to make him feel like an idiot for doing his job. "Yes, sir," he said.

There was a loud thump as her chair rolled backwards and tipped over. Lee looked up at once to see that Roslin had risen to her feet, her hands clenched into trembling fists at her sides, her eyes blazing with--with--

"The _frak_ you are," she said.

 

* * *

 

It wasn't that Laura had anything against Lieutenant Thrace in particular. She rather liked her. Clearly she was an excellent pilot, a courageous soldier, an asset to the Fleet. She'd braved any number of dangerous missions.

And under no circumstances was she going to get the honor of this one. Never let it be said that Laura Roslin did not give her utmost for her people, and this situation was no different from any other, except that she was going to enjoy the living hell out of it.

So was he. Laura could tell that just by looking down at his lap. He followed the path of her gaze, gasped, and hunched over in his seat, but that was too little and far too late. Besides, he'd said he'd 'rather not' take care of this with Thrace, and there had been something in his eyes--

She rounded the desk, heading towards him. She was twenty years too old for him, dying, and his father was Commander William Adama. And this was an actual matter of Fleet security, and she would never, ever have an opportunity like this again, and she didn't give a damn if she was about to humiliate herself completely.

Laura stopped in front of him, stared down while he stared back up, his mouth open and his eyes fogging over. She took a deep breath, reached out, and slid her fingertips through his hair, down over his warm cheek, just starting to be stubbly. Would he have shaved for Kara Thrace? What a crying shame that would have been.

"Well," she panted, and took a deep breath. "Captain Apollo--" He closed his eyes and gasped. "I'm aware of the ethical implications--I'm certainly not making this an order. I'm merely suggesting, offering--of course, if you're not interested, but I believe you are, so--"

He proved her right by reaching out and dragging her down into his lap, grabbing the back of her head and pulling her in for a brief, hard kiss.

Oh. _Yes._ He was going from half- to all the way interested right against her thigh, groaning against her mouth with such abandon that it shocked her. Electrified her. His hands ran up and down her back, over her jacket, before cupping her ass while she slid both hands into his hair again.

"I'm trustworthy," she mumbled against his mouth.

"Oh, yeah," he replied, turning to kiss and bite at her neck while he let her go just long enough to reach for her jacket buttons. "Oh, gods."

He was fumbling. She swatted his fingers away so she could take care of the buttons herself, and then shrugged out of her jacket and threw it into the corner. He reached up to her face and tugged off her glasses before tossing them onto the desk. She had one second to be grateful they didn't break--where was she supposed to get a replacement pair?--before he started kissing her again, sliding his hands up and down her sides, against the thin silk of her blouse, moaning softly.

"You're amazing," he managed, biting her at the base of her throat while he struggled with another set of buttons. At least he seemed to have the hang of it now. "Oh frak, Laura, I've been dreaming of..."

He'd been dreaming. _Laura._ Her head tilted backwards when he nuzzled at her earlobe. "Me too," she said, and when he slid her blouse off, she started doing that involuntary whimpering thing that always embarrassed her, but that seemed to drive men wild.

Her Apollo was no exception. "Sweet gods," he breathed, and groaned when she began to shift her hips in his lap. She was shockingly wet. If they were naked, she'd be fully capable of frakking his brains out right here and now. She was astonished by herself, by her response, to say nothing of her energy--maybe it was the life force reasserting itself--

Because months, maybe even weeks from now, she'd hurt too much. She'd hurt all the time. She was going to have this. They both were.

She felt his fingertips brushing the sides of her breasts, and gasped. He paused, pulling back to look up into her face. And for a horrible second, things appeared ready to grind to a screeching halt. "Is it painful?" he whispered. "Are you okay? Can I--?"

Arousal and tenderness melted into each other. Laura leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Lee Adama's forehead, tasting salt. "Mm," she said. Then she smiled. "You'd better." He laughed breathlessly. "But taking it slowly would be a good idea," she admitted with reluctance. "If you can."

"Of course I can," he said, looking surprised that she would ever have thought otherwise.

"That makes one of us, then," Laura said. He laughed again, and she pulled back to look down into his face as she cupped his cheek in one hand. Lords of Kobol, this was one absurdly beautiful man. And brave, and kind. And they trusted each other.

"You're incredible," he breathed, gazing up at her. Then he added, "Wear skirts all the time," as he placed a hand over her knee.

"Oh?" she asked, smiling as she kissed his forehead again.

"You have the best legs of any human left alive," Lee said. "I am totally convinced of that."

"You've taken a comprehensive survey?" Laura slid a hand down his chest, towards his zipper, which she was pretty sure took the sting out of the jibe.

"I'll fight to the death anyone who--oh, gods--contradicts me," he gasped. Then he grabbed hold of her elbow. "Wait. Let's get to the..."

It was so nice to let somebody else think of the details. She hummed again, and gave him a soft, slow kiss before sliding out of his lap, keeping hold of his hands as he rose to his feet. "Bed's this way," she murmured between more kisses as he put his arms around her waist.

"Right. Yeah. Hey," he said, and then scooped her up in his arms as if she weighed less than a sack of potatoes. "Is this okay?"

"Oh, my," she laughed as he carried her into the back of the ship, towards the tiny enclave that served as her room, with a couch for a bed that would have a hard time accommodating two people. "What chivalry."

"All part of the service, sir," he deadpanned as he laid her down. Then he suddenly looked very serious. Distressingly so. "Um. I feel like I ought to mention..." He trailed off.

Oh, frak. Laura bit her lip and cursed fate. "I don't have any either," she admitted.

Lee blinked. "Huh?"

"Condoms," Laura said, blushing in spite of all the rest. Talk about not thinking of the details. But really, why would she have condoms just lying around? Relentless fantasizing wasn't the same thing as contingency planning.

He blinked. "Oh. Er. That actually wasn't what I--" Suddenly he looked extremely uncomfortable.

Oh, dear. "What is it?" Laura asked, keeping her voice very gentle, reaching up to touch his chin and turn him back to her.

He took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say, I'm not just doing this because--listen. This isn't casual for me. You're President of the Twelve Colonies, and this is not a casual thing for me."

That could have been a turn-off. A dousing in cold water. A reminder of their places in the universe, and how impossible this was supposed to be.

"Take off these clothes," Laura said, grabbing at his shirt and trying to tug it out from beneath his belt. "Off. Now. Off." Then, as an afterthought, she added, "Me neither. Now: off!"

"You're the president," Lee repeated, only he was grinning this time, and he obeyed her.

 

* * *

 

Lee had condoms in his pocket. Stupid not to, considering his plans for the rest of the evening. But there was Laura, and she was naked, and so was he, and she mumbled something against his shoulder about oncoming menopause, and he said something about being clean and she agreed, and maybe it was totally frakking irresponsible but there was nothing but skin between them now. What about this was normal or okay, anyway?

Except it sure felt okay. Great, even. More than that, it felt right. Terrifyingly right. He was being as gentle as she'd said, and it was driving them both out of their minds as he rocked back and forth inside her.

"Oh yes," she whimpered as she wrapped one leg around the back of his. He hadn't been kidding. She had fantastic legs. He wished he could see them, could see all of her, while they did this. But he was having a hard enough time keeping it together anyway, so it was probably for the best. "Yes. More. Like that."

"Can you," Lee panted, "can you see me?" The ceiling above the couch wasn't exactly mirrored, but it was metallic enough that you could distinguish flesh tones. Red would definitely show.

"Uh huh," she replied breathlessly, but her eyes were closed in bliss, her mouth open as she struggled for air. "Yes, I, yes..." Drastic measures. Lee changed the angle, making himself groan, making her eyelids fly wide open. "Oh, gods!"

"Incredible," Lee choked. It was his turn to close his eyes before he lost it. "You're so--ahh--"

"Lee," she said, digging her nails into his back. "Lee. Lee."

The sound of his name, and the sting in his back, damn near finished him after all. "Gods. Gotta slow down," he managed, pausing for more kisses while he tried to calm himself. It was like being sixteen again. Not in a good way.

"No!" she gasped. "Don't slow, don't stop--" In protest, she slid her hands down his back and cupped his ass.

"Aggh," he said, pushing forward before he could help it, drawing a low moan from her. "Laura, please, I'm going to--"

"That's the idea, isn't it?" she asked, and laughed breathlessly up at him, eyes shining with happy mischief. "I want you to." She traced a fingertip over his cheek. Earlier, he'd made her shriek with glee by rubbing his stubble against her throat. "I want you to."

"B-but what about you? I--"

"I'm counting on you not to roll over and fall asleep," Laura said. Then, oh gods, she clenched and squeezed all around him, contracting in a rhythm. "This isn't all you know how to do, is it?"

"Frak!" Lee gasped.

"You said you'd been dreaming," Laura continued relentlessly, her eyes gleaming, and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, ever. "What about?"

"Laura..."

"About what you'd do to me?"

"L-laura--"

"Or..." she kissed him right beneath his ear, and whispered, "what I could do for you?"

_"Laura,"_ and that was it, he was gone. Inside her, so deep inside her, and he chanted her name again and again while everything else dissolved.

"Mmm," she said contentedly, stroking his back when he'd finished. "You're not a Cylon."

"Uh?"

"I was checking."

"Uh." Lee licked his lips and tried to drag his brain back online. "Yeah. That's, uh. Good. Thanks." Then he closed his eyes and kissed her shoulder. "Sweet gods."

She sighed, and danced her fingertips against the base of his spine, making his hips twitch. They both groaned when he slid out, and he rolled over just enough that they lay side by side, tucked up good and close.

Lee looked at her; she was flushed with satisfaction and anticipation all at once, fighting alongside him to carve out a moment just for the two of them. But that moment was fleeting, and he knew he would have to do his very damndest to make sure she'd let him come back for more.

No pressure. "Well, Madam President," he said, touching her throat, "looks like the first part of my investigation is concluded."

She rolled her eyes, but she was still smiling as she played along. "What's the next part, Captain Apollo?"

"Making sure somebody at a very high level of government clears my security check," Lee said. "It's absolutely essential."

She chuckled, and then gasped as he slid a hand between their bodies, between her thighs. "Oh. Oh. Yes. I'll, um, comply."

It occurred to Lee, but only briefly, to hope that she wasn't actually a Cylon. That was, of course, assuming he could make her come in the first place. Again: no pressure. He swallowed his misgivings, kissed her, and said, "Let me explain how the first stage has to go."

"I'm all ears," she said, and then giggled as he nipped at an earlobe. They'd both probably laughed more tonight than in the past two weeks combined.

So he chuckled right back, and glanced up at the ceiling. "Well, for starters...you'll have to be on top."

 

* * *

 

"So where the hell is he?" Lieutenant Thrace demanded. The communicator made her voice sound a little tinny.

"Still meeting with the president, Lieutenant," Billy said, checking his watch.

"Well, go check on him," Thrace said. "My shift ended an hour ago and the jerk said he was going to meet me for something, but if he doesn't show up then there's a Triad game with my name on it."

"Lieutenant, they're discussing classified information," Billy said as patiently as he could, trying not to be scared of her. "That's why I had to leave in the first place."

"Do I sound like I'm frakking around?" Thrace said. "Or do I have to take a shuttle over there and check things out for myself?"

If everything Billy had heard about her was correct, she'd do exactly that. He gripped the side of the desk, hard. "Er, that won't be necessary, Lieutenant. Just a moment." He put her on hold. Then he headed for the doorway to the tiny conference room where President Roslin held court. Nobody answered his admittedly timid knock. He tried again, louder; and then, somewhat alarmed, he dared to open the door just enough to poke his head around it. "Madam President," he began respectfully, and then froze.

Nobody was there, but President Roslin's chair was overturned. And her jacket was on the floor, along with her blouse. And coming from behind the curtain that led to her cabin, Billy could hear...things.

Holding his breath, Billy closed the door as quietly as he could manage. He leaned back and rested against the wall. Then he banged his head against it a few times, took a deep breath, and returned to the communicator.

"Lieutenant," he said, "enjoy your card game."

 

* * *

 

Laura's last lover, President Richard Adar, had been very powerful and very married. He had also been her own age.

She had forgotten what it was like to share a bed with a man Lee's age. What he lacked in relative experience, he made up for with energy and stamina and eagerness to please. "I think maybe we need to triple-check," he was currently murmuring into her ear.

"Oh gods," Laura whimpered into his shoulder, grinding her hips down, reveling in the strength of his arms and the dexterity of his apparently tireless fingers. Then again, it wasn't taking her very long. "Oh--oh, _gods!"_

Case in point, she thought, as she slumped against him wondering if she was about to pass out, knowing that her body was going to pay for all this soon enough. But by all the Lords of Kobol, it was worth it. She'd been so certain that she'd never have this again. Still-- "Enough," she begged. "Lee. Enough. Please."

He immediately slid one arm around her and sounded alarmed when he said, "Are you all right?"

"Oh, yes." She smiled at him, and watched his expression brighten with relief. "Most definitely."

"Whew." He shifted, rolled, and then winced as their hips both moved into the wet spot. There wasn't any room to avoid it. "Sorry. One of the many benefits of military-standard housing, huh?"

"I don't know," Laura said, resting her head against his shoulder, trying to get her breathing back under control. "This isn't a military vessel. And really--" She laughed and waved at the tiny cabin. "It's not much smaller than my first apartment in Caprica City."

"Oh, yeah," Lee said, shifting so that she could prop herself against him more comfortably. Goodness, she thought, trailing her fingertips over his flat, firm stomach. You could serve lunch on this torso. "I lived in the city when I went to college. Insanely expensive. I shared a place with this other guy...let me just say it was good preparation for Fleet living, only with less privacy and dignity."

"That sounds about right," Laura agreed. Then there was that moment they both should have been expecting: the empty, raw hole where the life before had been. Lee's old roommate was undoubtedly dead now. Their tiny apartments were probably obliterated. A place that had once been home to seven million Colonials, all of whom paid hand over fist for every square foot, was gone.

Lee sighed. "Is it completely screwed up for me to be this happy?"

Laura slid her arms more tightly around him and pressed her face into his chest. He kissed the top of her head. "Yes," she said, her voice a little muffled. "Oh, well."

"Uh." He cleared his throat. "Just so you know, I was working hard in the hopes that you might want to do this again." He paused. "Like I said. Not casual."

Laura sighed heavily. "Like I said: me, either. But..." She felt him tense beneath her, and patted him. "No, no. Calm down. I do feel I ought to remind you that I am very sick, and getting sicker--"

"Laura--"

"--and even putting all the rest aside, all of it, that remains. I will probably not be here in a year."

After a moment, Lee said hoarsely, "You sure know how to cut out a guy's heart."

"It's not a lot easier for me," Laura said, letting an edge into her voice. "Do you think I wouldn't rather spend next year in bed with you?"

"Frak," Lee muttered, and rubbed a hand over his face. "Of course. Sorry. Stupid."

His embarrassed remorse was real, and she forgave him at once. "It's all right. We both wish things were different."

"Maybe they will be," he said, sounding strained. "Maybe this research that Cottle's going to do--I don't know. Maybe we'll learn more about the Cylons, how their bodies work, we can apply it to..."

He really thought that, after being almost obliterated, now the human race was going to develop a cure for cancer? And perhaps the common cold after that. "Maybe," she said gently, and kissed his jaw.

"Anything's possible," he continued, and looked at her. "Including this, right? I mean...are we possible?"

"Define--" Laura yawned, and then covered her mouth, wincing. "Sorry. Define 'we'."

"I'd rather not be a secret," Lee said quietly.

That figured. Captain Apollo, raised in the strictest traditions of Colonial manhood, certainly wouldn't stoop to being her bit on the side. Laura supposed it wasn't fair of her to ask him to. But all of her original objections still held true: she was older, she was dying, and he was William Adama's son.

Which reminded her of something. "Didn't you say something about reporting back to Dr. Cottle? And the commander?" That would be fun. Or whatever the opposite of 'fun' was. Laura was forced to admit that, in the heat of the moment, she had perhaps chosen to ignore certain particulars of the plan.

Lee sighed. "Yeah. The old man'll have a fit." He grinned up at the ceiling, at the vague reflections of their bodies. Their human bodies. "Oh, well."

"If you don't want to be my secret," Laura said, "then I don't want to be your rebellion."

Lee blinked, then looked back over at her. "You remember the day we met?" he asked after a moment. "When you thanked me for saving our collective asses?"

"After you tricked the Cylons away," Laura said. "Trust me. I remember." There was much she'd love to forget about that day, and would never be able to. The memory of Lee's miracle save, however, was one she cherished, even if she still had no real clue how he'd done it.

"You wouldn't let _Colonial One_ make the FTL jump," he said. "Even if it meant we all got our own asses blown up. There were civilian ships out there without a clue what was happening, and you weren't abandoning them. And I thought, frak, this is a hell of a woman. If I picked you instead of my dad, I did it then. Not now." He laughed bitterly. "And then you had to go and smile at me."

"Goodness," Laura said, quite touched.

"Yeah." He looked at her. "Okay. You're right. You're sick, and you're the president, and I've already said that I can be what you need me to be." He licked his lips and looked surprisingly bashful. "I'm with you all the way, Laura."

Gods above, she had to be careful, or she'd be so gone on this man that there was no turning back. If it wasn't too late already. "Oh, Captain Apollo," she whispered, and kissed his chin.

She was surprised by how suddenly and fiercely he kissed her back, but she certainly wasn't going to complain.

 

* * *

 

The old man rarely came to card games. Kara wondered why he was at this one. "Lieutenant Thrace?" he said. "May I have a word?"

"Sure thing, sir," she said, and followed Adama into a nearby corridor, away from the curious pilots. "What's up?"

He actually looked uncomfortable. Awkward, even. "Have you spoken to Lee, by any chance?"

"No, sir," Kara said, getting more and more mystified. "But he said he was going to talk to me about something later tonight."

"He did?" Adama sighed. "I might have suspected as much."

"Uh…" Okay, what? "Well, he never showed up."

"What?"

"He told me he wanted to talk to me about something tonight, and I haven't heard from him since," Kara repeated. "Do you know what's going on, sir? Mind filling me in?"

"As of this moment, Lieutenant, I do," Adama said, looking incredibly aggravated. It was that specific type of aggravation that was exclusively to do with Lee. Kara recognized it well. "You have no idea where he is?"

Kara shrugged. "Still talking to the president, as far as I know," she said. "He told me he had a meeting with her, and we'd get together after that." Adama flushed. Weird. "But I called up to _Colonial One_ about an hour ago, and that aide of hers said they were busy talking about classified stuff." She tilted her head to the side, trying to read Adama's craggy face. "Sir, is it to do with the recent discoveries about Cylon physiology?" Which sounded a lot more professional than 'the way Cylons' backs go all nuclear when they come'. She was kind of proud of herself.

Adama was staring off into space, though, and didn't seem to hear her. Kara watched in fascination as his brow furrowed.

"...was there ever any doubt..." he muttered.

"What?"

"No. It's not possible." He shook his head. "It's just not--" Then his eyes widened.

"What's not possible?"

"I'll kill him," Adama said.

Kara's own eyes bugged out. _"Sir?"_

"Dismissed, Lieutenant," Adama barked, storming off and leaving Kara to wonder why, exactly, everybody insisted on keeping her out of the loop after teasing her from inside it.

 

* * *

 

Billy had known there would be a galaxy-sized blowup with Commander Adama when word got to him about the president's frolic with his son. He just hadn't expected it to happen this very night. Or that he, personally, would be the one to deal with it.

"Mr. Keikeya, he's the head of the military," a guard pleaded with Billy over the communicator. "We had to let him land. What were we supposed to do, wave his Raptor away with our hands?"

"It's a plan!" Billy said, right at the moment that William Adama appeared in full glower.

"Where is Captain Adama?" Adama asked Billy, and for a second, Billy was afraid he was about to be executed on the spot.

Then he recovered himself and hung up the receiver. "H-he's talking to the president, sir." He reached, trembling, for the intercom button. "I can, um, buzz th--I can call them, if you want to speak to them right away?"

"You bet your ass I do," Adama said. He folded his arms.

 

* * *

 

"I should go," Lee mumbled against Laura's shoulder as he kissed it.

"You're on duty early?" Laura asked, snuggling closer and sounding out of it. Lee was heading that way himself, which meant he should leave before he actually went to sleep.

He didn't want to go. The bed was cramped and uncomfortable, they were both sticky and sweaty, and they would probably elbow each other to death long before morning, but he didn't want to go. As long as he stayed in her arms, he could pretend that it never had to end: that death and illness didn't exist, or duty, or anything else that could keep them apart.

"I'm on duty pretty much 24/7," he replied, "but I'm officially up at 0600."

"Gods," Laura said, rolling over just enough to release him from her arms. "And I thought the presidential schedule was rough."

"That's because it is." Lee toyed with a strand of her hair. In the absence of hairdressers for a few weeks, it was growing out. And shifting color. He remembered being surprised when he'd realized that Laura was a redhead, and he still wondered why she'd dyed her hair darker and kept it in such a matronly style. Here and now, with her increasingly ruddy locks against her pale skin and green eyes, nobody could deny the President of the Twelve Colonies was a stunner.

But maybe that was why. Maybe she'd been hiding from her own beauty, or behind some kind of mask. Laura Roslin had her secrets, and Lee had been dying to unearth them practically since day one. Now seemed as good a time as any to start. If she'd allow it.

"So." He bit his lip. "When do I get to come back?"

Laura gave him a long look, and reached up to stroke her fingertips through his hair, watching her own hand. "You'd better hurry or I won't let you leave at all," she said quietly.

"I'm serious." He was. "Life's short. We could be happy." She didn't stop petting him. "You know we could. We can."

"I think--"

But Lee never knew what Laura thought, because at that instant, beyond the curtain, the intercom buzzer sounded. "Uh. Madam President?" Billy asked. Both Lee and Laura tensed at the frantic note in his voice. "I'm sorry to interrupt your meeting, but Commander Adama is here, and he wants to speak to you."

"Frak," Laura said, before Lee could.

"Um, hello? Madam President?" Billy prompted. "Captain Apollo? Are you there?"

Laura could move pretty quickly when she had to, Lee realized, because all of a sudden she was out of the bed and into her bathrobe, heading past the curtain into the main cabin. "Hurry up!" she called over her shoulder.

Lee didn't need to be told twice. He was already deciding that his underwear was a time-waster as he grabbed his trousers. From the main cabin, he heard Laura say, without a trace of breathlessness or sex, "Commander Adama?"

"Madam President," Lee's father growled over the intercom, "I would like to speak with my son. Is he with you?"

"He's using the head," Laura replied. "He'll be out momentarily." Lee also decided against his shirt and just threw his dress jacket on, buttoning it up all the way. Then there were the boots, which likewise he stuffed his feet into without socks.

"Then may I come in and wait?" Adama asked, with exaggerated politeness. That tone alone told Lee exactly how screwed they already were.

He hurried to stand at Laura's side, feeling even more naked than he had without clothes. If military uniforms sucked for comfort, they sucked even worse without underwear. "Hey," he whispered.

Laura turned to look at him, and her eyes widened. "Lipstick!" she hissed, and pressed the intercom button again. "Of course, Commander," she said, using her free hand and the sleeve of her robe to wipe Lee's mouth. "Just a second."

Then she let go of the intercom. "He's going to know," Lee said when Laura lowered her sleeve.

"Of course he is," she replied. "I'm sure that's why he's here in the first place. The commander does not make casual visits to _Colonial One_." She straightened his jacket and ran a quick hand through his hair. "Right. You let him in. I'm at least going to put on my nightgown."

"What? Wait--"

"I'll be right out," Laura said, and fled back behind the curtain. Lee heard rustling noises. She'd probably go for underwear too, he thought glumly, before pressing the intercom button.

"Apollo here, Commander," he said, trying to sound steady. "Come on in."

 

* * *

 

Before returning to face the music, Laura Roslin took a moment to look at herself in her bathroom mirror. The lights were not flattering. She looked tired and old.

But also--this she would not deny--it was kind of a sexy tired. And if she was old, that hadn't put Lee off. She decided instead of 'tired and old,' she'd go for 'frakked through the mattress and irresistible to a man twenty years younger'. She could use all the emotional bolstering she could get right now.

She took one last deep breath, squared her shoulders, and made sure that her bathrobe was securely tied over her nightgown before heading back through her room and into the main cabin, where William and Lee Adama seemed to be engaged in a silent standoff. Each man stood at attention: Adama was trying to glare all the way through his son's head, while Lee was looking unwaveringly at the wall over his father's shoulder.

"Madam President," Adama grated, still staring at Lee, "why don't you go put on some clothes."

"No need, Commander," Laura said, sitting down on the nearest sofa. "I intend to go to bed as soon as you leave, and I am quite decently attired for that. You're here very late."

"Too late, it looks like," Adama said. "Right, Captain?"

"Sit down," Laura said, "both of you." It was not a request. Both men joined her: Adama sat across from her, and Lee by her side. Not indecently close, but close enough to make a clear statement.

She wouldn't let him go, Laura realized. The gods could not ask that of her. Not after every other thing they'd thrown at her head: Cylons, cancer, the loss of her family, all of that. And now Lee sat by her side, rigid and furious, looking like he'd jump up and strangle his own father if Laura needed him to.

Laura was sure it wouldn't come to that. Pretty sure. She said, "Commander Adama, Captain Apollo has apprised me of the particulars of his mission. The mission has been completed, and I hope the results will be of use to Dr. Cottle." Adama took in a deep breath. "You will also no doubt be pleased to know," Laura continued, using her very best schoolteacher tone, "that Lee is not a Cylon. Nor am I."

"I know that," Adama said coldly. "What in the name of all the gods were you two thinking?"

"We weren't," Laura admitted, but that was as much ground as she was prepared to concede. She was President of the Twelve Colonies, and if that made her relationship with Lee inappropriate, it also meant that she didn't have to scuff her toes in front of Bill Adama like a guilty teenager. "What's done is done, Commander."

"Is it?" Adama glanced between her and Lee. "Is it done? Because that would definitely be for the best."

"It's done if Laura says so," Lee said, staring his father right in the eye. "It's her call. But she knows what I want."

"Then I appeal to you, Madam President," Adama said, his voice flat and anything but appealing, "to act as your maturity dictates--" Lee spluttered. "--to say nothing of your position, and consider how totally inadvisable it is for the president to fraternize with--" He paused.

"The CAG?" Laura asked politely. "A captain of the Fleet?" She paused. "Your son?"

"And your adviser," Adama rejoined. "Your direct subordinate."

"Understood, Commander." Laura turned to Lee. "You're fired."

"I'm happy to hear it, sir," Lee replied, the hard glint in his eyes softening a little when he looked at her. "I'll clean out my desk."

"Cute," Adama said, curling his hands into fists on his knees. "Very cute, Madam President. If you weren't thinking before, it's time for all of us to start--do you know how this will impact the future of the Fleet?"

"No," Laura said, settling back on the sofa. She decided that it would be good mental exercise to argue against all her own objections. "Do you?"

"I can guess. So can you."

"But you asked, did I _know_. Commander, only this morning we learned about a key difference between Cylon agents and human beings. I assure you, that will impact the future of the Fleet far more than my relationship with your son." She had been resting her hands in her lap; now she placed her right one on the sofa, between her and Lee. A second later, to her relief, his hand covered it.

Still looking at Adama, she smiled. "I can't read the future like a mystery novel, Commander." Her reference to their one shared pastime made him scowl. "But there is something about me you should know." Lee's hand tightened on hers, and she continued, "I am dying. You can confirm this with Dr. Cottle. On the day the Colonies fell, I was diagnosed with terminal breast cancer."

Adama stared at her.

"Not my best day," Laura said.

"By the gods," he muttered, and rubbed his forehead. "All right. First: I am deeply sorry. I really am. Second: how long were you going to keep this from me?"

"Until I couldn't anymore," Laura said. Then, against her will, her voice faltered as she added, "I didn't want the Fleet to lose hope. If they heard I was dying so soon after--well, everything--I was afraid it would destabilize the government." She smiled bitterly at Adama. "Somehow I don't think that being with Lee is on a par with that."

"I think it's time for me to join this conversation," Lee said. "Commander. Dad. This is going to raise eyebrows. It's not going to crash the Fleet into the nearest star."

"What do you want me to do, Lee?" Adama asked. "Throw you a party? Wish you two kids the best of luck?"

"Leave us alone," Lee said. "Just let it be, okay?"

"It? What's 'it'?" Adama said, folding his arms. "I thought this was something impulsive. You're telling me it's going to turn into something long-ter--" Then he stopped and looked at Laura. Cleared his throat. Lee's hand tightened on Laura's again.

"Indeed, Commander," Laura said quietly. Her own throat felt a little obstructed by the thought of the years she would not have with Lee, or anyone else. As if she needed yet another lump.  
  
"Right," Adama sighed. "Let me say just one more thing." Lee couldn't quite hide his snort, but Adama ignored it. "It'd be easier on both of you to end this now."

"You're kidding, right?" Lee asked in disbelief. "It'd be easier for us to regret that for the rest of our lives? Because I would. I--" His eyes widened, and he looked at Laura. "I can't speak for you."

"I'd regret it too," Laura said, trying to keep her voice as even as possible while she felt a wave of fatigue washing over her. She'd overdone it tonight. By a lot. She would pay for it soon, and pay for it worse if she didn't get some rest right now. (Dr. Cottle would be furious, or at least extremely sarcastic, if he found out. _You just can't make things easy on anybody, can you, young lady?_ ) "Even if that won't take very long."

"Laura," Lee said, his voice raw.

"It won't do any good to pretend that it's not going to happen," Laura said. She pressed a hand to the back of her neck. "Commander. I am sorry to cut this conversation short. But I'm getting exhausted, and I need to go to bed. We'll have to finish this later."

Adama sat back, and regarded her and Lee for a silent moment before he said, "Is there anything left to finish? You two are set on this. I can't forbid it, even if I'd like to."

Laura smiled sourly at him. "I call that good news. Good night, Commander."

"Good night, Madam President." Adama rose to his feet. "You'll accompany me, Captain. You should understand right now that I do not give you permission to bunk away from _Galactica_. If there's a Cylon attack in the middle of the night, the last thing we need to worry about is trying to find you on another ship."

"Yes, sir," Lee said. He and Laura also stood. "Permission to say goodnight to the president privately."

"Make it quick," Adama said coldly as he headed for the door.

When the door shut behind him, Lee took Laura in his arms. "That went..."

"'Well' would be pushing it," Laura said. She smiled at him, enjoying his embrace even in her exhaustion. "But it could have gone worse."

"I'll be back as soon as I can," Lee said. "Unless you finagle an official visit first." He kissed her forehead. "I'll try and think of a good date spot. But I already know this great restaurant. It's called the mess hall."

Laura laughed softly. "Or we could take our turn in the observation lounge. With all the teenagers." She touched Lee's face and kissed his mouth. "Good night, Captain Apollo."

"I'll be back," he repeated, "soon," and then he left before she could decide not to let him.

 

* * *

 

In the Raptor, Adama said, "The removal procedure for that implant is going to be painful. I'm pretty sure we're running short on anesthetic."

Lee kept his sigh inaudible. And only this afternoon he'd been thinking about how his father trusted his judgment. Lee had obviously blown that all to hell. Which stung, even if he didn't regret it.

The next few minutes passed in frosty silence. Then Adama said, "Is she worth it?"

Lee stared at his father. That question could have meant a lot of things, but Adama was very nearly smirking. "Uh," he said. "Is she...are you, um--are you asking about--?"

"Yes," Adama said flatly.

Lee swallowed. Adamas did not kiss and tell. Did they?

Well. Maybe when one of them embodied the entire military and seemed hellbent on thinking this was a bad idea in every way. And was his dad. And was the only person alive whom Lee could ever, ever brag about this to. Maybe then they did.

"Definitely," he croaked, remembering Laura's kisses. And legs. And other things. "Yeah. Definitely."

"You don't say," Adama said, clearly noticing Lee's immediate drop in IQ.

"Well, in that and other ways," Lee added hurriedly. "She's, I mean, she's also really--"

"That will do, soldier."

Lee hoped it would. He'd left his underwear and shirt back on _Colonial One_ , and this ride was uncomfortable enough already.

 

* * *

 

"I hate you," Saul said, opening his cigar case with deep resentment. "Also, that little shit. No offense to your son. I can't believe he did that."

"That clusterfrak's just beginning," Bill said. "Don't get me started. And you owe me three."

"He really said she's hot in the sack?" Saul asked plaintively as he offered Bill the three cigars. "I don't believe it."

"I do."

"Obviously. Damn."

"You lost a bet fair and square," Bill said, putting two of the cigars in his own case. "Just take it on the chin."

"I honestly had no idea we'd ever settle it," Saul said. "I mean, unless you were planning to, because I sure as hell wasn't."

Bill choked down a few different replies to that query. Instead, he lit the third cigar and sat back on his couch as he smoked.

After a moment, he said, "It won't last."

"Of course it won't," Saul said. "He's half her age. He'll grow up. It'll burn out." He shrugged. "We just have to try and survive the fallout. But, Bill--"

"She's dying," Bill said. Silence fell, and he studied his ceiling very carefully. Then he added, "Cancer. She told me. I confirmed with Cottle. She's got a few months left."

"Frak me," Saul breathed.

"It won't last," Bill repeated. "That's the glory and the sorrow."

"And he thinks he loves her," Saul said, shaking his head. He sat down, too.

"He does love her. He's being a fool. This is going to put him through hell, and I wouldn't wish that on my son."

"Sure, but what happens when she goes?" Saul didn't sound very interested in Lee's impending heartbreak. "That woman's the president, Bill. The only one we've got."

"She needs a vice president. I'll talk to her about it soon. Not tonight." Bill puffed again and tried not to think about the profound and tender exhaustion in Laura Roslin's eyes. "Tomorrow, though."

"Hell," Saul said. "She'll probably angle for Lee." Bill looked at him incredulously. "Why wouldn't she? Think about it."

Bill thought about it. His son: already an admirer of Roslin's persona as the champion of democracy, and now a lovesick puppy ready for grooming. "I'll be damned," he said, starting to develop a headache.

"Not you," Saul said. He grinned. "You're one of the good ones."

"Then I don't know what I did to deserve this," Bill said. They'd traded one problem--how to identify the Cylons in their midst--for another that might be less apocalyptic, but that promised to be a much bigger pain in the ass.

It was almost--just almost--enough for him to wish that Gaius Baltar had never even opened his frakking mouth.

 

* * *

 

"You're going to rock their little world, Gaius," Six whispered into Gaius's ear. They lay on the floor of the brig, Six curled around Gaius in the fetal position. Too bad she could provide him no warmth in this freezing cell, but at least Apollo and Thrace had so bloody graciously decided he didn't have to die yet.

"I thought I already had," Gaius said. "Or at least blown it up. No, wait. That was you."

The Marine guard glared at him. "Ssh," Six said. "They don't know the extent of what you've really done. Who says they have to know? When you have other information that can distract them beautifully."

"Other?" Gaius asked dully, wondering where that tooth of his had gone. He had to look an utter fool. "I've given them all I have, except that." That: the final secret, his complicity in the Colonies' destruction. Six had been right. They'd torture him before they killed him for that one.

"You will rise again, Dr. Baltar," Six said. "They'll take you back with open arms. Because you will save their precious president's life."

"What are you talking about?" Gaius rolled over, painfully, to look up at her face. She was always so terribly clean. He made sure to keep his voice low. "Roslin? What's wrong with her?"

"She thinks she's dying," Six said, stroking the side of his face while he gaped up at her in shock. "That would make it so easy for all of them, wouldn't it?"  
  
"Easy?" he said incredulously. "Her death? How would that make anything easy?"

"Everything looks less messy when it seems to be coming to an end," Six replied. "When you think--even if you can't admit it to yourself--that you'll be able to wrap it all up and put it away. When you believe you'll die, or grieve and then move on. Life makes the messes, Gaius. Life demands the commitment and the dedication." She kissed his forehead. "God always has a plan. He will make use of their love. He'll make it harder and more painful and worth fighting for when she lives. Never forget, Gaius: God is love."

"Love? What?" Gaius rubbed his eyes. "What love? And what's she supposed to be dying of?"

"Cancer," Six said. "And you're the only one who's going to be able to interpret those lab results Dr. Cottle's going to come up with. He's a military doctor, and you..." She carded her fingers through his hair, matted and sticky with blood at the back of his head. "You're the finest mind of your race. They know that. They hate it, but they know it."

"True," Gaius agreed, wondering how hard he'd have to work to save his own arse. It was an area in which he already had considerable expertise. "But what's this about love?"

"The queen and her prince," Six cooed, nuzzling at his temple. "The prophet-to-be and her skeptic. Who will be their dying leader now, I wonder?"

"Prophet? Who's a prophet? Stop being so bloody cryptic! My neck is on the line here!"

"Ssh," Six said. She rubbed his shoulder. "All of this has happened before. All of it will happen again. Ours is not to reason why."

"Frakking hell," Gaius said, profoundly grateful to be drifting towards unconsciousness. Exhaustion, or the many blows to the head? Did he have a concussion? "All this fuss because you lot have infrared vertebrae."

"Nobody's perfect, Gaius," Six said, and slid one remarkably perfect leg across both of his. "Laura Roslin will have much to thank the Cylons for. I wonder if that'll keep her up at night." She smiled mischievously at him. "Or if something else will."

**FIN.**


End file.
